Through the Darkness
by redkiss1
Summary: This story takes place directly after Christine leaves the opera. Two people come together and learn from each other. Not an E/C story
1. Default Chapter

*Disclaimer* Obviously I don't own any of the characters as of yet...I haven't posted anything here, so let me know what you think. *note-this story changes viewpoints, it is signified by the name at the top of the chapter  
  
Through The Darkness  
  
Introduction  
  
Paris two days after the incident: Christine has left the opera, the mob has destroyed much of the underground, everyone believes the opera ghost to be dead.  
  
The room was dark and cold. A lone candle burned a top a large mahogany desk. The air in the room seemed tired as if all the hope and energy had left it. A single occupant sat at the desk, writing very slowly and meticulously. Her dark hair was swept up into a tight bun, making her eyes, which seemed to burn holes into whatever they happened to be looking at, grow even larger.  
  
During these same moments that the silent women sat at her desk, a man was lying far below where she was sitting. He was lying face down in a shallow puddle of muddy water, mixed with blood and vomit. The only sign of life was the faintest rise and fall of his bloodied back. Beyond the desolate man, lay broken rubble and rocks. There was obvious evidence of a struggle, for the barely conscious man was not the only one lying on that dirty, bloody floor, however, he was the only one alive... 


	2. Chapter 1

Madame Giry  
  
I sat at my desk, pondering the events of the past days. It was all a bit much. What was worse, I knew it was to happen. I saw it coming months in advance. Erik was a dormant volcano, just waiting for his day to erupt. Christine was a sweet, innocent child. However, I am a believer that there is no one with such innocence, she fully realized what she was doing to the man, and she just didn't have the strength to stop. I don't mean to say she was a terrible wench, just a misguided and confused soul. Despite Erik's downfalls, and yes there were many, he intrigued me. A genius he was, and a mind of his caliber can not be shut away from the world. Try as he might, and as the world around him tried to, it was just not possible. I truly believe that there is a very fine line between genius and insanity. I had known of Erik for many years. I had grown accustomed to him, even looked forward to his notes, his voice in my ear, and his tedious requests. In any case, now this man, whether heaven sent or devils spawn, was lying down below my office somewhere. In my wretched heart, I knew I had to go own there and deal with his remains. I had known Erik for to long to leave him there to rot. I had yet one thing to do; I had to finish writing my Meg.  
  
Dearest Meg,  
  
I have gone to attend to some matters concerning these past events. Enjoy your vacation. I have let the managers know of my intentions, and have informed them that I will be back when the opera resumes in a months time.  
  
With Love, Mother  
  
Gathering my things I readied myself for the long voyage down to the cellars. 


	3. Chapter 2

Madam Giry  
  
I had been down to the cellars more than once before, however never on a funeral mission before. AS I descended farther and farther into the cellars every sign of life seemed to disappear. I shivered as a rat scampered away, headed for warmer ground. Dam it was frigid down here. I remembered the first time I ever met Erik. .  
  
I was seeing to some details before a performance, early in the morning. It was so early that the still dark night air still crept in the windows. It was impossible to see without a lantern. As I was pouring over the notes the manager had left me I felt as if someone was watching me. I quickly glanced around but saw no one. Now I am not a woman who fears bumps in the night, I have spent many nights and early mornings in that opera house, and I know nearly every nook and cranny about it. But in about five minutes I knew someone was there on the stage with me. I heard a stifled sneeze, and then a quick cough. I turned and asked loudly" who is there, I don't have time for this nonsense!" Never could I have imagined the sight that I was about to see. To me it looked as if the wall shimmered a moment, and then a man stepped out. This of course was no ordinary man, though he was tall and very very thin, (ordinarily I would say frail, but he was most certainly not) he was imposing. He wore all black evening clothes, and a long sweeping opera cape. On his head he had a wide brimmed hat. Most startling of all, was the whit half mask he wore. I stood there for just a moment; it was just long enough for my natural sense of defense kicked in. I stepped back, and asked "and who are you?" The man took a menacing step forward, which I interrupted as malice. As I said before I have spent many dark nights alone in questionable places, so I can tell malice when I see it. I didn't wait a second longer; I took my cane and hit him square in the head. He uttered only a quick shout, and fell to the floor in a crumpled heap. Instead if running away and calling a police officer, like a normal sensible lady would do, I went over to the crumpled man, and took a look at him. I always have been a curious lady, and tonight was no exception. As I was staring at him, I got a glimpse of his torn visage. His mask had slipped and I could clearly see his waxy yellowed skin, and ragged lips. It did not disturb me, for as I said before, not much does, in the way of looks anyway. The man slowly blinked his eyes, and started to sit up. I began to worry a little that he might take revenge, but judging from the lump on his forehead I could see he wouldn't be in any form to do much harm to anyone for at least a few hours. "Madame Giry, I am glad to make your acquaintance." The figure muttered. Something about the way this man muttered his hellos in such a embarrassed and defeated manner made me laugh. I am not one who laughs very often, but I admit a small giggle escaped from my mouth. The man jumped up as if in a rage, however jumping up so quickly after a blow to the head, made him dizzy and sick, and he quickly slumped down again, looking pale. I remember that morning so clearly, it was as if it was yesterday. I said to him "Who are you, and why do you run around trying to scare sensible ladies like myself?" He simply replied "I am Erik, I have found solace in the opera cellars, and I would prefer it to stay that way. I did not mean to startle you, I was simply on my way out to get some dinner." I was rather taken back by this, the way he spoke and the manner in which he presented himself told me many things about him. I know new he was the saddest man I have ever known, I also now know that he is a genius in all aspects, and I do remind everyone, there is a fine line between brilliance and insanity. Since that early morning, Erik and I have grown to be well acquainted with each other, I know how he came to be, his heartache, and his genius. I have maintained his opera box for the past seven years, and tried to be as much of a friend to him as I could.  
  
So this is why I had to go down to the cellars to see if Erik was alive, and if not, give him a burial save his soul might finally find peace. On reaching the last cellar where people normally are found, I took a deep breath, it had been a few years since I had been down to his home. He had been sick, and I was brining him his meals and opera programs regularly for a few weeks. I had never actually been in the house itself, just at the gate where he met me. Even then, pneumonia and fever ridden, he was a powerful and imposing figure. I was startled out of my reverie by water creeping into my boots. I looked across the cold black lake, reminded of the river Styx. The boat happily was docked on the shore, a good thing too. I had carted down a number of items with me. Climbing into the boat I truly felt like I was about to journey into the underworld. I struggled with poling the boat across the murky water, the craft was large an difficult to maneuver. Somehow, god knows how, I made it to the other side with out incident. I walked carefully through the piles of broken glass, splintered wood, and torn fabric. As I turned the corner, heading towards the house, I was merely overcome with nausea. There had to be about fifteen bodies lying about, their arms and legs flailing in different odd directions. Once I gained my composure, I let my eyes seek out these so called gentleman. I felt very detached. There was Barton, a scene shifter. Monsieur Reno, an opera patron, his neck obviously broken. I felt some pity for these individuals, but had no inclination to deal with their remains. Erik deserved to be sent to the afterlife in a proper manner. He had waited for years for this relief; at last maybe he would find some peace and comfort. Time passed and I began to despair of ever finding Erik's remains. I walked over a small cat walk, which led to the now ruined house. My candle flickered, almost as if it was going to go out. At this same moment, I saw something shine in the darkness. I glanced over and saw part of Erik's mask. Just the very corner piece. My eyebrows rose in surprise and anticipation, I felt he was near by. Erik did have a presence about him, I was always aware when he was around. In any case, I was anxious to find what I was looking for. I scanned the area one last time before moving on. My eyes picked up an outline, a very faint outline of a shadow form my candle. A hand lying there in the dark. I ran over to the hand which indeed was attached to an arm. Once I had the cad light fully the body, I knew that without a doubt it was Erik. I knelt down and crossed myself, saying a quick prayer. It was a sorry sight; his once white shirt was dark with blood and dirt. His pant legs were torn, and his right leg had a gaping wound in it. At this point I sat back on my heels and sighed. I had no idea where I was going to bury this man. I closed my eyes, and rubbed them in fatigue and frustration. The moment I touched my gloved hands to my forehead I ripped them away in disgust. There was a warm sticky substance covering them. It was blood. I quickly scanned my body for sign of an unknown injury. There was no wound on my body; however I noticed a growing puddle of blood growing underneath my feet. "Erik!" I cried, suddenly realizing where the blood was coming from. Dead people didn't bleed! In haste I turned him over, he wasn't heavy, he was literally skin and bones. "Erik! Can you hear me?" I asked shrilly. Mo response. I began hastily inspecting him to see what kind of injuries he had incurred during his ordeal. My hand glanced off his forehead and was appalled at how cold he was! I was amazed he was still alive. It was imperative to get him out of there. There was no way I was going to be able to carry him out myself, it was just impossible. However I couldn't chance leaving him here while I went to go get help. Help would be a long time coming, and in my mind I felt Erik had at most a two to three more hours left if he was in this cold. I sat and thought for a moment, but finally I signed, realizing I had no other choice. I began ripping my skirt into long sheets, fashioning a type of sled. As much as it would pain me and even more so him, there was no way else to get him out of there, I would have to drag him. 


End file.
